


As Stark and Sad as a Single Laugh in a Funeral Parlor

by CertifiedPissWizard



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Depersonalization, Hurt/No Comfort, Memory Loss, it/its pronouns unrelated to gender, jon's canontypical self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/pseuds/CertifiedPissWizard
Summary: The Lonely is foggy and cold, and he is alone on the beach. He walks along the shore. Nobody is coming for him. Jon knows this. It isn't like he would deserve someone coming for him anyways.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	As Stark and Sad as a Single Laugh in a Funeral Parlor

The Lonely is foggy and cold, and he is alone on the beach. He walks along the shore. Nobody is coming for him. Jon knows this. It isn't like he would deserve someone coming for him anyways. That's probably why he keeps losing who he is. If he isn't someone worth looking for then why would he need to remember himself anyways. He sits down, places his feet in the water. It's comfortable. The whole place is peaceful. It doesn't hurt as badly, not being loved back. He's made himself so small, trying and staying because he loves even when they hate him. The hurt washes away in the waves, and if he loses other things what does it matter? What does it matter that he could leave, that he knows the way, when nobody cares if he stays? It's so peaceful here, being alone. He gets to rest. No more statements. No more rituals. No more pain. He stares at the foggy sky, feet resting in the waves, sand soft under his head.

Peter comes sometimes. He tries to mock Jon, Jon supposes, bragging about the world outside and how Jon won't see it again, even though Jon could leave any time he wants. He just doesn't care to. He stares at Peter during these visits, not blinking. He doesn't care. Let the world outside of the Lonely do what it will. Jon feels nothing for it. Just the foggy contentment of being alone, of nothing mattering, even him in the grand scheme of things. He loses himself more often. It doesn't really look when it happens. He knows the way out and knows he prefers it here. That's enough. Peter looks concerned on his visits sometimes. It's strange since he placed. Whoever he is. Here. "Did I break you, Archivist?" So that's who he is. The Archivist. A title. Nothing more. It says nothing. Why would he? Peter will be gone soon enough, and the Archivist will be alone again. That'll be nice. Peter fades into the fog. The Archivist wraps it further around himself, hiding.

Peter comes for another of his visits and the Archivist watches as he wanders around alone looking for him. He doesn't care to do anything except watch alone. Peter says he lost a bet, that the Archivist is someone's now. The Archivist doesn't want to talk to any someones. It just wants to rest. It just wants to be alone. Peter comes with someone else who sees the Archivist, tries to pull it out of where it's hiding, tries to force something onto it. It won't. It isn't the Archive. It knows that. It's the Archivist. Peter calls the other one, the one that sees it, Elias. The name feels familiar. The Archivist retreats further into the fog until Elias starts snarling and swearing because he can't find it. 

The Archivist finds another not-someone hiding one day. "Who?" The not-someone looks so lost. It feels a pang of something unidentifiable.

"I'm not a who. I'm a what. I'm the Archivist." The not-someone tilts its head. "And you?"

"How would a melody describe itself if asked? I think I was Michael once, but not anymore. Michael hurt. I don't. It's all so gentle here." It's voice is soft like the Archivist's.

"Melody." It says, naming the other not-person. It needs a sense of self no matter how faint or the clowns come. The circus tent standing on the beach. The Archivist avoided it, and it saw the fates of others it assumes. They didn't. The Archivist isn't a someone; it is a something. It is very comfortable in its somethingness. 

"Melody," Melody echos. It nods, and it and the Archivist sit on the beach looking out over the ocean. They don't speak and don't look at the other. They just sit alone in each other's company. It's quiet and peaceful. The Archivist likes being alone with Melody, the other not-person. It thinks it will like sitting on the beach with it from now on. Melody might feel the same. It doesn't matter so long as they don't talk anymore and the circus doesn't come.

**Author's Note:**

> haha what if i kept picking titles for things from lady lamb songs haha jk unless


End file.
